


Dungeon Drabbles

by Feral_Fic_Writer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Cock and Ball Binding, Dehumanization, Forced Feminization, Gang Rape, M/M, Master/Pet, Mention of Castration, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threatened Bestiality, Torture, self-soothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Fic_Writer/pseuds/Feral_Fic_Writer
Summary: Glimpses of Theon's captivity and transformation.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 21
Kudos: 34





	1. The Sum of Subtraction - Castration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon wrestles with his loss.

Arms pulled taut, an invisible blade stabs between shoulders rubbed raw against rough wood. Calves and arches screech and shake from the stress of balancing atop the awkward blocks peeking out between the spaces of missing toes.

Neither of these, however, are at the forefront of Theon’s consciousness. Nor is he focused on the bone deep throb of broken teeth, the lingering copper flavor of the shredded cheek-flesh within his mouth, the choke of dry swollen tongue. 

Even the acidic hollow of his empty guts, all-consuming for so long, seems dull now. 

He’s been swallowed by a deeper hurt, all reason obliterated by that pounding place, the ravaged space between his legs. There’s no room for any other thought as much as he’s tried to find it.

It’s a pain so claustrophobic, so encompassing, there’s barely even any room left for breath. And within the pitch black of his cell, eyes open or closed, awake or lost in the fevered world of his dreams, he can’t stop reliving the horror of his loss over and over and over.

Within Theon, the primal animal essence his captor has awakened senses something beyond his sad sack of skin. It whines. It nips worriedly at what remains of his man mind, pulling him from the loop of his violation and back into the dank hell of his cell.

Ears now damaged by the volume of his own screams listen and then, barely-audible above his pounding, erratic pulse, he hears.

As recognition dawns, the still human part of himself joins the creature whimpering within him. Sound spills from his damaged throat, too cracked from thirst and terror to hold it.

Theon bites his scabbed lower lip with ragged teeth trying to keep his screams sealed as the bolt on his dungeon door slides back. Over-sensitive from straining in the pitch black of his torture chamber, he shuts his eyes to the dim torch glow that shines in from the hall.

The action not just to minimize the sting of brightness as much as it is to hide from the demon he knows the light will make visible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	2. Hangnail - Flaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the past to the present Theon's perspective has shifted considerably.

Summer breezes swept in through open windows. Theon sat at the desk in his chambers in air perfumed by ripening wheat, warmth, and the floral notes of the lace handkerchief sitting crumpled on his desktop. Quill in hand, tongue protruding slightly between thoughtfully pursed lips, with a quick flourish and the scratch of albatross feather over parchment it was done.

Chair pushed back, boots kicked up to rest on the edge of his desk, he leaned back regarding his handiwork. _I've certainly earned my evening wine with one._ He smirked. _And hopefully far more._

The labor required to woo high-born ladies was so tedious. Normally, he much preferred a good quick fuck with one of the maids: their legs so much quicker to spread and far more open in their enjoyment of a good cock. But the visiting Daphenae was worth this bit of extra effort. Pale skin that had barely ever seen the sun, eyes as blue as July's skies. And beneath the recently filled curves of her bodice the promise of previously unclaimed territories.

Quill and letter abandoned now, Theon stretched and laced his hands behind his head. One finger brushed another and he winced. "Damn."

Pulling his hand back to see what stung, he spied the culprit right away. A hangnail on his middle finger. He flicked at the sliver of skin and hissed, amazed by how such a minute, wayward bit of oneself could cause such discomfort. He brought his finger to his mouth and worried it, grimacing at the burn when his teeth finally managed to tear off the offending bit of flesh.

He wondered if Daphenae's eyes might water like his were when her own tiny veil was torn through. He sincerely hoped to find out.

Grinning at the prospect, he went to his cupboards and pulled out a small jar, given him a few years ago by an older lover. He dipped his fingers in, pulled out a bit of balm, and was rubbing his hands together when Robb barged in.

"I see I caught you primping!"

"Nah," Theon winked back at the good-natured ribbing. "Just adding a bit of soft to these rough hands to keep on the good side of the ladies."

* * *

In the damp, closed air of his cell this memory returned to him. Nose filled with the stink of corrupted flesh, Theon stared at the two inch strip of flayed blackening skin dangling from his ringfinger and the ever-weeping wound of exposed meat and bone beneath it.

Any movement of his hand at all was agony.

His blurry eyes flickered up to meet Ramsay's, whose mad glitter matched his blades.

Amazing how such a wayward bit of oneself causes such discomfort, Theon thought again, breath hitching as Ramsay grinned and he begged.

"Cut it off. Please... Take it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm open to drabble prompts if anyone's inclined.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	3. Less Than - Gang Rape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon/Reek learns his place in the natural order of things.
> 
> * Warning, forced animal breeding (among dogs). If that sort of thing bothers you, you might want to skip this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a oneshot than a drabble, but what the hell. I'm putting it here anyway.

It was Dance-for-Me who dragged him up from the dungeon to the kennels. Filthy, battered, starving, Reek didn’t fight him until the cage opened and he was urged to crawl in. 

So many indignities suffered already, but this? He balked.

“I’m a man, not a beast.” 

It was Theon’s voice still, despite the tremor it held.

Damon tipped his head to the side in a canine manner that made him seem the more cage-worthy one. 

“Oh?”

That was it. 

Without another word Damon’s huge hands gripped Reek’s tattered shirt collar and hauled him away. Back down to the saltire. 

Three days later Damon returned. This time with Luton and Sour Alyn. 

Cut down from the timbers, hands tied before him, Reek was carried to the kennel again.

They passed Ben and Skinner upon entrance, hacking thick slabs from a hanging deer carcass. They threw these over wrought iron bars into the girls where they churned in a frenzy, snapping and snarling.

Past this, further in, Ramsay greeted them. He sat casually, leaned back on a stool amid the straw stored at the building’s end. Damon hauled Reek around a cask staked into the kennel’s hard-packed dirt floor and shoved him to his knees at Ramsay’s feet.

The same hand that flayed fingers gripped what remained of his shirt. Ramsay pulled Reek around until he was crouched, kneeling at his side. One of his bound hands was soon pinned beneath the toe of a mud-covered boot.

The hold on his shoulder was switched for one in his hair.

“Watch.”

Ben went into the kennel's run and emerged with a bitch. Growling, she showed fangs until he slipped a leather sleeve over her muzzle. The moment her jaws were locked her ears drooped and her tail curled under. She whined, stiff-bodied as she was manhandled.

Belly draped over the cask, while Ben tied her collar to a stake out in front of her, Sour Alyn buckled leather cuffs above her hocks in the back. Rear legs tethered, she was bound to the barrel unable to move.

Damon went to the large open kennel doors and whistled out into the stockyard. Accompanied by Grunt and Yellow Dick, a young man in fine servant garb appeared. Straining the leash in his hands was a massive male hound, easily twice the size of the bitch.

“That stud comes by three weeks' travel.” Ramsay’s eyes fixed on the new arrivals. “His master is a mercenary lord. That brute’s gone with him everywhere. Including battle. The beasts it’s brought down on two legs or four…” He clucked his tongue. “You can’t even begin to imagine.”

“I paid a pretty penny for that monster’s seed. Don’t know that Willow will appreciate that though. Rough stuff for a girl’s first time.”

High whines filled the air and the bitch, Willow, writhed over the cask as the stud rushed forward to excitedly slather her nethers with a thick slobbering tongue. Her heat scent had his hips, pumping already. 

This was nothing Reek hadn’t seen before: animals bred. When he was Theon there were stables, and kennels, milk cows and mutton. Conscious-less creatures manipulated by men for their own ends. Rooster’s fucking hens into the dirt along every roadside. And outside coarse jokes at the beasts expense he’d thought nothing of it. 

Today, however, fresh down off the saltire again, seeing willow wild-eyed and trussed… He had no desire to witness this.

He bit back a cry when the boot atop his already damaged hand ground down.

“I said watch!” Ramsay hissed.

Willow’s tail had been tied off to the side too now. Stud pulled back for just a moment, oil dripped onto her heat-swollen bud from a dipper Ben wielded. He drew away when the massive male rushed forward again. It climbed up on to her hackle-raised back thrusting madly.

Pointed red cock thick as the arm of a two-year old babe’s, Ben leaned over, grabbed its sheath, and guided this to Willow’s virgin cunt. 

“He’s called Asger, it means ‘spear of God’,” Ramsay chuckled. “Appropriate from the size of him.”

Asger found his mark. Behind the muzzle, Willow screamed. Reek tried to drop his head and turn away.  
  
"Look at them, Reek!” 

Tears blurred his eyes at the burn in his scalp and the cracking of bone beneath boot. 

“Are you so sensitive? They’re just dogs. Beasts, Reek… Not men.”

There was a cacophony of sympathetic clamor from the other girls, but they quickly fell quiet when Willow’s wails shifted into rhythmic panting whines. 

It was over quickly. Though for Reek and Willow surely not nearly quick enough.

After Asger tied, Ben helped him turn. Asger’s keeper held his leash and kept him calm. The stud stood there, tail held high and proud. Drool hung in frothy ropes from his raggedly panting maw.

Willow shrieked again when the fat, bloodied knot pulled from her cunt minutes later.

The stud moved away and flopped on his side. He laved over his spent cock while Ben returned Willow to the pen and emerged with Sara. 

Asger’s stamina as well as his enthusiasm seemed unflagging. Synched in their heats, Helicent followed next. 

“Three today, three tomorrow,” Asger’s attendant said at the third pop of knotted cock from battered bitch cunt.

“Hmmm…” Ramsay reached into his vest and pulled out a couple gold coins. “You don’t by chance think Asger’s got another round in him?”

The servant frowned. “Ah, I'm sure he’d fuck again but I doubt at this point the bitch would catch anything.”

Ramsay looked over and nodded to Damon who moved forward. 

“Oh, that wouldn’t matter.”

Reek yelled when Damon lunged and hauled him up onto his feet. The scraps of his shirt gave way under his grip, leaving him bare-torsoed.

Despite his bound hands, despite his already battered body, despite everything, knowing what they intended, Reek fought like a demon. But he was already outmatched, and then Sour Alyn and Skinner joined in.

Thrown belly down over the barrel hard enough to force the breath from him, Reek’s tied hands were pulled out and staked down in front of him. 

Ragged britches were ripped off kicking legs. While his thighs were wrapped in rope and strapped to the barrel, his jaw was pried open and a wooden bit forced into his mouth. It was tied off around the back of his head.

Reek screamed and sobbed “No!” and “Mercy” until he was gagged. He continued yelling his throat to rawness even once he’d lost his access to words.

Asger watched the commotion from the sidelines, unimpressed. His attendant looked stunned.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Ramsay rubbed the gold coins together. 

“Asger’s final bitch of the day.”

The servant’s eyes switched from Ramsay and fell on Reek. The look on his face as his gaze swept over him seared Reek with shame. 

“Keep your coin,” the servant said with disgust. “Find some common curs to breed it. They might be drawn to the stink.”

He gathered up Asger’s leash and pulled the dog onto his feet. “I’ll not sully my master’s prize stud with such a creature.”

Watching Asger and his keeper take their leave Ramsay’s brow rose in surprise and then he laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.

Once he recovered himself, he leaned back on his stool, settled in, and splayed his thighs wide. The outline of his hard cock strained the inner seam of his breeches. He rubbed over its swell with his palm, his gaze locked with Reek’s.

“Well, you heard the man, common curs!" He waved at his men. "Go on, since his noble stud's rejected him, break this bitch in. Show Reek his place in the natural order of things."

Reek’s scream rivaled Willow’s in its animal anguish when oily fingers plunged without warning into his asshole. Damon's cock followed. Skinner's after. Then went Sour Alyn, Luton, Ben, Yellow Dick, Grunt. Once they'd each had a go the rotation started again.

All the while Ramsay sat on his stool, silent, watching. Locking his gaze with Reek's any time he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

After Reek's final fuck, Grunt’s cock still hard and spitting inside his ravaged asshole, Ramsay rose and walked over to him. He motioned to Damon who untied the gag.

Even with broken teeth the wooden bit was almost gnawed through.

Gripping greasy, sweat-wet bangs, Damon wrenched Reek’s head up.

Ramsay reached into his vest again, this time he pulled out not coins but a stout leather collar.

“Damon told me you said you were a man.” He fastened the collar tight around Reek’s gasping throat. 

The kennel echoed with the open-palm slap to Reek’s tear-stained face that followed. Ramsay waited for dazed eyes to clear to ensure he was heard.

“You are whatever I say you are.

"And I say you are no man.

"You are my dog, my pet, my Reek.

"Don't you ever forget it.

"Or I'll turn the boys loose to put you back in your proper place again."

Ramsay's hand reached out toward Reek's face once more. Reek shrieked and tried to shy away but Damon held his head in place. No slap fell. Instead, Ramsay tenderly traced the outline of the handprint he'd left on his purpling cheek. Then he rose and left the kennel.

Sour Alyn, Skinner, Luton, Yellow Dick, and Grunt followed in his wake joking about whether or not Reek might actually "catch" with all the fine stud juice shot into his tail hole, laughing among themselves about the appetite they'd worked up, and wondering what would be served for supper.

Ben untied Reek’s tethers and he was pulled off the barrel and into a shivering heap.

Damon went to the same cage he’d opened three days earlier. He patted the open doorframe.

“Get a move on, Reek!" he called, impatience evident in his voice. "Before the food's cold and the boys have drunk all the wine,”

Limbs to weak too hold him up, Reek lowered himself to his belly and crawled over.

Naked but for his collar, ass bleeding, he collapsed into dog-smelling straw.

The door swung shut behind him and the lock fell into place, the click of it lost beneath his sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were curious, Asger really is Norse for "spear of God."
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	4. Soft and Hard - Forced Feminization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek longs for soft things but his life is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in honor of YourWastedSpace. So glad to see your work returning!

Reek blinks crusted eyes open, woken by his bedmate Grey Jeyne. Her jowls flutter with the muffled huffs of her sleeping bays and her large paws twitch in unconscious chase.

Reek tries not to imagine the quarry of Jeyne’s dreams. Instead, he focuses on the warmth of her sleek hide where her back presses against his empty belly.

Behind closed lids Jeyne’s eyes roll. Her barks and whines grow louder. “Shhhh...” he whispers. He takes one of her ears between thumb and two remaining fingers and rubs. It works and within moments she settles. 

In the scratchy, dog-smelling straw Reek settles again too. 

There’s something in the slide of ear fur between his fingers that soothes. It’s been so long, he’d almost forgotten anything could be so soft. 

His mind drifts to all the soft things he’d used to know about... Fresh bread, the fuzz on a peach’s skin, well-washed bed linens, the silk of a woman’s slip, the brush of youthful lips, the velvet of a relaxed areola, the slick warm glory of…

Reek clenches his eyes against sudden tears and forces himself to stop. 

It’s not just because thoughts of that other’s life are dangerous, but his sleepy ruminations have roused his mangled cock and the battle ache between swell and scar is too painful.

He needs to abandon dwelling on soft things, far better served by clinging to his new life’s harshness. 

Hardness is his lot now, he reminds himself, hardness is his life entirely... 

His hand slides off Grey Jeyne’s ear down between his legs.

Almost…

There’s one place he can’t forget the imperative of softness. 

But that’s hard too, in its own way.

* * *

“Your Master wants you, Dog!”

Ben’s words and a kick to the bottom of his bare foot awakens Reek instead of the sun.

He struggles up.

“He’s in his chambers. Best hurry. He’s already made three maids weep.”

Reek is stumbling across the courtyard on his errand when he finds it. A strip of pale green ribbon.

A quick glance around the dawn-empty yard shows no one appears to be missing it.

Though he committed himself to abstaining last night, the satin temptation is too much. It’s stiff with frost like the ground around it when he picks it up and stuffs it in the pocket of his ragged trousers.

All morning while Ramsay rampages, every now and then Reek manages to sneak a hand in to touch it. Warmed and dried by his body heat the ribbon tangles through his tortured fingers like a delicious secret. The silk of it centers him and makes the curses and cuffs somehow more bearable.

At last, Ramsay is summoned away by his father. Left alone in his master’s chambers Reek unfurls himself from the heap he’s left in. There are still coals in the hearth and, nearby, autumn sun makes a patch where it peers through the window. 

He crawls over to it on aching limbs and curls up in the glow.

He pulls the ribbon from its hiding place and examines it. Far less pristine-looking and bordering on shabby in the sunlight, he doesn’t care. He brushes the frayed end of it across cracked lips, allows it to curl against his cheek’s bruises. 

Looped around his index finger, he tucks his ribbon wrapped hand under his chin. He promises just another minute as his black-nailed thumb worries over it and his eyelids flutter shut.

* * *

“What’s this?”

Reek jolts awake with a cry. Eyes open to the sight of his master’s boot upon a skinny wrist. Ramsay tears the ribbon from his clawed fingers. 

Reek's heart drops and his belly twists with a horrible despair.

“Reek… Reek… Reek…” Ramsay tuts. “I’m so disappointed. While I’m off doing the business of the Fort, you’re here playing dress up without me? So selfish.” 

He release’s Reek’s wrist, grabs his collar and pulls him up. “I always figured you for a soft one. But if I’d known you were into such debauchery... Would you have rather been my whore than my hound?” 

Even as he’s shaking his head “no” Ramsay laughs and drags Reek toward his wardrobe, one hand tight in his matted hair, ribbon fluttering in the other. “I’m a generous man. How about I let you be both. Let's get you fixed up in your ribbon.

“And I’m sure Myranda’s left some things behind that would fit you now.”

Minutes later finds Reek wailing, impaled on his master’s cock. 

Ramsay sprawls in a chair, Reek atop him. Large hands cruelly grip skinny hips where Reek’s petticoat skirt is rucked up to the tops of trembling thighs.

“Aren’t you a pretty, princess...” Ramsay growls as he lazily thrusts. 

Cheeks already pinched pink blush darker. Overlong hair pulled from his face, Reek’s short, green ribbon-tied ponytail bobs in time with the pulse of harsh hips.

“No…” he whimpers weakly. The wings of the poorly-tied bow flop about too with the rhythm of his rape.

Ramsay mocks with false wide eyes. “What, Reek, are you saying you don’t like this?”

There’s a hair swaying shake of head and fresh sobs.

"Hmmmm" Ramsay pulls Reek's hips down hard, slamming his cock into him as he pretends to look thoughtful. “Maybe you were wanting a different sort of dress-up?”

* * *

Bare back pressed into the mattress of his master's bed, Reek is all but bent in half. Lean calves twitch on Ramsay’s shoulders as he’s fucked into. 

“Is this more what my whore-hound had in mind?”

His hair is loose, the skirt gone. Reek is stripped bare as the day he was born but for the collar encircling his throat and his ribbon-trussed balls and cock stub. 

The silken lashing holds what's left of him erect. Reek bites his lips bloody at the hurt of it, even while the satin's soft green grows darker by what's left of his hard, swollen dick weeping the wet, sharp pleasure-pain Ramsay forces out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
